


du vin d'été

by scionblad



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Mythical Beings & Creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 06:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15599916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scionblad/pseuds/scionblad
Summary: He's been searching for his queen for centuries. She's been running from faeries her whole life. Their meeting will irrevocably change their lives, and the ones of those around them.





	du vin d'été

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not usually one to make a habit of posting a story that i haven't fully planned out BUT i figured.... i gotta change up my creative process a bit sometimes. enjoy!

He was fae. She could see it in the brightness of his skin and eyes and hair, all dulled under the cloak of glamour, but there nonetheless.

There were two of them—a masculine-looking one and a feminine-looking one, though she could never be sure with their strange anatomies, animal heads, limbs and fingers too long to be truly human, leaves and dew sprouting out of their skin—and they made her feel uneasy. They had never strayed near her so willfully, and she wanted to keep it that way. Marinette busied herself by wiping down the counter, giving her hands something to do so they might not shake in fear. Her mother didn’t need to know about this. She could handle it herself. She was grown, now.

“Hello,” she said as pleasantly as she could manage. “What can I get for you?”

The male-looking one, with golden hair and eyes like the green of leaves in sunlight, smiled at her, and she tried not to shiver. “What do you recommend?”

They didn’t eat mortal food, not that she knew of. Not that her grandmother had ever told her. There had always been a peculiar gift that had been passed down that line, and with it a breadth of knowledge and rules. Don’t speak to them. Don’t look at them. Don’t acknowledge their presence in any way.

The feminine one was invisible, her features pinched, with honey dripping from her hairline and long fingernails like bee stingers. Marinette tried not to look at her, instead focusing her gaze evenly on her companion.

“Macaroons are a popular one,” she said, surprised her voice didn’t waver even a little bit. “And I personally think our éclairs are the best in the whole city.”

“I don’t get what you see in mortal food anyway,” said the honeybee fae, with her golden hair floating behind her, trailing a wake of yellow dust. “It all tastes so  _ bland.  _ Just like this girl.”

The other one merely quirked his lips faintly as if he was trying not to respond to his companion’s snark. “Then I’ll have one of every éclair,” he said.

Marinette smiled tensely at the male faery, and stepped out behind the counter to take one of all the éclairs from the display. She could see the bee faery moving around behind him, but slid her eyes over the sight. One thing at a time. Chocolate, strawberry, matcha, raspbe—

Without warning, she suddenly fell on her face. 

The floor hit terribly against her jaw and knees at the worst angle, and the éclairs slid off the tray in her other hand. Marinette grimaced at the pain. She could hear the bee faery cackling above her.

“Oops,” said the bee faery. “I couldn’t help myself. Goodness, that was  _ such  _ a spectacular fall, didn’t you see, my king?”

The bee faery cackled to itself some more, pollen floating around her like a cloud. The male faery knelt down. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Marinette looked up. He had held out his hand to help her but with a smile on his face—like he was laughing at her? Of course he had to pretend he couldn’t hear his companions voice, but the glimmer of amusement in his eyes irritated Marinette more than anything. She got up without taking it, and brushed off her skirt.

“I’m fine,” she said. “It happens.”

More often than she’d have liked to admit, sadly—faeries liked to have their fun, and too often it was at the expense of humans. Pinching, tripping, groping, tickling, she’d perfected the art of enduring it all with a blank, stony expression. It had kept her safe thus far, anyway.

One at a time. She could get through this.

She set about gathering the rest of the éclairs and placing them in a brown bag. “Twenty-one euros,” she said briskly.

He passed her the money, and grabbed her hand before she could draw it back completely. She looked down at it. It was incredibly warm. The glamour flickered, not by the faery’s weakness—no, he was  _ incredibly  _ strong, the smell of woods and seawater and honey rolled off him in waves—but by her own Sight.

“When do you work here?” he asked. “I’d like to see you again.”

They had never taken such a  _ direct  _ interest in her before.  _ Don’t speak to them. Don’t look at them. Don’t acknowledge their presence in any way. _ She tried not to look terrified.

“I-I can’t tell you that,” she said. “My schedule changes a lot, so.”

“She doesn’t even  _ want  _ you, my king,” said the bee faery with clear disgust. “How foolish a mortal could she be to refuse you? She’s scum, and you deserve better.”

“All right then,” he said. “But here’s my number, if you want to see me.”

He scribbled it down on a napkin and pushed it towards her, his eyes hopeful. She took it tensely. The bee fae sniffed indignantly behind him.

“There’s probably prettier girls who’ll actually want you,” said the bee faery. “Don’t waste your time with her.”

As if in response, the male faery’s green eyes didn’t waver from hers. It was unsettling. Marinette could almost see summer moving in the depths of his gaze.

“Thank you,” said Marinette. “But no thank you.”

He reacted as if he’d been stung. “Then,” he said, scrambling for words. “At least your name?”

She hesitated. The mantra her grandmother had given her at such tender age echoed loudly from her memory.  _ Never give a faery your name.  _ Why did he want her name? Why did he have an interest in her? The logic and the fear churned inside her chest, the napkin still crumpled in her fist.

“Mari,” she said finally. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Mari,” said the faery. “I’m Adrien. I’ll see you again soon.”

He left, a smile on his face, the door closing behind him with a tinkling of the bell. 

She slumped against the counter.  _ I’ll see you again soon _ . Marinette wiped a hand on her forehead, her heart racing, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Whether it was in fear or relief, she couldn’t tell.

 

 

 

 

“You didn’t have to trip her like that, Chloé.”

Chloé sniffed and flicked her golden hair over her shoulder. “Sometimes I can’t help myself. The way she was rejecting you, I  _ simply  _ could not take such disrespect to my king.”

“Well,” said Adrien, his glamour making him invisible now, “I actually liked her, you know.”

“Despite all that?”

“Despite all that,” said Adrien. “She’ll notice me someday.”

They stood at the corner, watching her lock up the bakery for the evening. She turned and headed down the street, and they followed, both invisible. He could still smell her from all the way back: warm, soft, comforting, like rising bread and sweetness. She was only mortal, and yet.

She stopped at the corner to wait for the traffic to ease, and they stopped too, watching her fiddle with her hair, with her fingernails, with her earrings.

“Adrien.”

“Yes?”

“I must ask something.”

“Then ask.”

The bee faery scrunched her nose, her clear blue eyes narrowed, as if she was working up the courage to speak frankly. Never mind that Adrien had given her that permission at least three centuries ago: they had known each other for so long that he practically knew what she was going to tell him before she even said it.

“Why did you go  _ there?”  _ asked Chloé.

He thought for a bit, then answered.

“I felt something,” he said honestly. “I’m—I don’t really know. I just felt drawn to this place. And the feeling was right.”

There was an old man who’d stumbled on the street, his cane off to the side. Mari went to him, and helped him up and over to the other side of the street, kindly smiling at the man.

Adrien’s heart grew full. What a kind and unselfish mortal. A girl with an inner brightness that rivaled that of his own—and he had  _ sunlight  _ in him. She had to have it in her, too. He was absolutely certain of it. 

The very thought gave him a hope that sent a thrill through his body. They could have the strength, now; they could do what for centuries he had been denied. The sunlight danced right under his skin, energized at the possibility. All he had to do was charm her. It was possible. The faery charm was difficult for most mortals to resist, but perhaps her steadfastness meant even more that she could bring them what they had all been searching for for centuries.

Chloé seemed to realize, too, and her head snapped around to look at him, and back at her.

“Adrien,” she whispered, jealousy creeping into her voice like the silent snake poison swiftly felling deer in its wake, “you don’t… you don’t  _ really  _ think she could be…”

“She has to be,” said Adrien, watching her give the old man one last kind smile.  “I choose her.”

Chloé looked at him in mild astonishment. He paid her no mind. His gaze was still fixed on her—with his words, with his choice, the very fabric of her existence began to change, and her mortality would slowly, slowly, fray in the new growing presence of the sunlight.

“Let us go,” said Adrien, and he went back to the mansion where they lived, to dream of her hair black like a raven’s wing, to dream of her eyes clear like a cloudless sky, to dream of a queen finally at his side to bear the warm drafts of summer.


End file.
